As Ryan walked to the kitchenette, he heard fresh steps approaching Jenna’s apartment at the end of the hall. Apparently her apartment was not only the size of a silver dollar, but the walls were thin as paper. The click of heels grew louder—a woman’s quick, short stride.
Ryan walked back to the door with his gun in his hand. He sighed at Jenna’s apartment door with its woefully inadequate single deadbolt. Well, whoever clicked her way down the hallway was hardly a stealthy assassin.
Ryan opened the door, again keeping his weapon concealed behind his back.
The tiniest Asian woman, the size of Mini-Mouse and as adorable, startled back from him as she withdrew the hand with which she had been about to knock on the door.
“Who the hell are you?” she snapped at him, all four-feet nothing of defiance. Even with her heels, she didn’t reach five feet.
He arched an eyebrow. “Jenna’s guest.” He kept his voice calm. Bellied-Brandon was likely with his ear to his door, eavesdropping.
The small woman made an effort to peer around him into Jenna’s apartment. “Where is she? She’s not answering her phone.”
“She’s had a rough few days and lost her phone. She’s currently sleeping. And you are?”
“I’m her damn best friend.” Large, hoop earrings jangled about her head.
Ryan suppressed a grin. The feisty little woman was already riled and would likely be insulted if he laughed at her.
“I’m Ryan Walsh.” He produced a business card with his free hand and gave it to Jenna’s friend.
She snatched it with a scowl. “I’m Jessica Ong.”
“Dr. Ong?”
As Jessica read his card, her mouth fell open. “You’re him.”
“Beg pardon?”
No longer a ball of fury, she placidly handed his card back to him. “You’re Antigua. I mean, the man she regretted she let leave. Did she finally call you?” Jessica looked him up and down appraisingly. “I told her she should have slept with you.”
Ryan chuckled. “Thanks. I think.” He opened the door wider to let Jessica inside the apartment.
She walked in and made herself comfortable on Jenna’s love seat. She froze, watching intently as Ryan holstered his gun. “You always answer the door before people knock with a gun in your hand?”
Ryan put a finger to his lips as he closed the door. Softly he said, “Jenna is sleeping. She was kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Shh. Yes. Apparently Brad is in debt to the Cuban mafia, and he suggested they reclaim the money through Jenna.” Ryan sat down in Jenna’s desk chair in her living room-office-dining room combo.
“Cocksucker,” Jessica swore.
Ryan shook his head. The small Asian fireball reminded him of Maxine. “I wouldn’t know about that, but Jenna’s safe for now.”
Jessica’s eyes widened. “What about Cal?”
“Cal is safe and knows nothing about this.”
She relaxed slightly. “So Brad gambled his way into trouble, and Jenna’s supposed to bail him out? She divorced his sorry sack of saggy balls so she wouldn’t have to bail him out anymore.”
Well, that’s a mental image of Brad I didn’t need.
“We’ll have to get creative to make sure this is the last time.”
“We?”
“Rider Security and Investigation.”
Jessica nodded with a grunt. “Jenna’s a good person. Good doctor. Good mom. She doesn’t deserve this crap.” She flipped long strings of straight black hair off her shoulder. “Fucking Brad.”
“Agreed.”
She narrowed her eyes and scrutinized Ryan again. “You like her?”
“I do.”
“You want to sleep with her?”
Did he ever.
“In addition to a meaningful relationship.”
Jessica snorted. “She needs both.”
“Agreed.”
“You don’t gamble, drink excessively, or break the law?”
“No. No. And I’m not at liberty to say.”
She huffed out a breath as she stood. “Fine. Tell her to call me when she wakes.” She walked over to the door and opened it. “And treat her good.” She pointed a short, purple polished nail at him. “Or else.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Yes, Dr. Ong,” he corrected himself, containing his amusement.
Jessica strode down the hallway, the sound of her heels reverberating off the walls.
Ryan closed the door, chuckling to himself. He liked Jenna’s friend. He’d also been in enough relationships to know you don’t piss off the best friend—least of all when they wore six-inch heels and swore like a Marine in room full of subordinate men.
Jenna woke pleasantly in Ryan’s arms.
They both still wore clothing, reminding her of what she had wanted and been denied last night. If her aching muscles were any indication, Ryan had made the appropriate decision.
He pulled her close to him and kissed her forehead.
“I hope it’s okay that I had Barry check on Cal. He’s okay.”
“You did?”
She wanted to kiss this man. Again. But not with morning breath.
Suddenly self-conscious, she excused herself to freshen up and clean.
When she emerged, Ryan had made them bagels with cream cheese, orange juice, and coffee.
She dove into the meal.
“I need to ask you some questions about the kidnapping.”
She looked at him as she chewed. He seemed hesitant. Surely he didn’t think she would fall to pieces reliving it. The terrible event had ended. She was okay. All was well.
Was it over?
Crap.
It wasn’t over. The Cubans didn’t have their money. Ernesto didn’t have his money.
Swallowing the bite of food, which had suddenly taken on the consistency and flavor of a rice patty, she nodded. “Ernesto Busta wanted me to pay Brad’s debt—three hundred thousand dollars. We didn’t get as far as me explaining how I don’t have that kind of money before you and the A-Team arrived.”
He arched an eyebrow, and she recalled how he didn’t like mixing analogies.
“You and the Avengers,” she corrected herself.
Ryan shook his head, releasing a quirk on one side of his mouth. “That’s as far as the conversation got?”
She nodded sipping her coffee.
“And three hundred thousand dollars was the amount he said?”
“Yes.”
Ryan pursed his lips. “Jenna, this is bigger than a few grand.”
She cleared her throat. “Three hundred is a few?”
“Apparently Brad got in debt to Ernesto and promised to pay him back with some accounting work. He botched that and twelve million dollars went missing.”
Jenna choked on her coffee. “Twelve million?”
He turned the face of his phone to her and showed her a text message on his phone from someone named Claire, 12 mill.
As she unceremoniously cleaned her coffee dribbles off the table, he continued. “Claire is our information technologist. She’s the one who helped track you. She also uncovered the exact amount. I think they were going to make an example of you, Jenna. I think after you gave them whatever funds you had, they were going to execute you.”
“Jeez, Ryan. Why are you telling me this? I’m a dead woman?”
He took hold of her hand, but in the face of twelve million and a shallow grave, the gesture hardly felt comforting.
“I am going to talk to Ernesto, see if I can broker some kind of deal,” he said.
She slid her hand away from him. “Ryan, I already owe you for the rescue mission. I can’t afford to pay you to brokerage a deal with a drug lord on my behalf.”
His jaw tensed as his voice hardened. “And I’m not doing it for the money, Jenna.”
She blinked at him, surprised by his tone and a little aroused by his intensity. “I’ll talk to him with you.”
“Out of the question.”
“If he signed my death warrant, the least he can do is talk to me first. Judging by the doom and gloom reality talk you’re giving me, I’m dead if this doesn’t work anyway, right?”
“No. We’d go somewhere. Keep you safe.”
“From a man who lost twelve million? Not likely.”
“You’re not going, Jenna.”
She ignored him. “Don’t they have some type of parlay or something until we meet?”
“Those are pirates,” he said wryly.
“There must be something like that.”
“I’m not putting you in harm’s way, Jenna.” He was beginning to sound as though his patience were cracking.
She looked him in the eyes, not caring if he turned big, green, and ugly. If she didn’t face this—get out in front of this—the Cubans could go after Cal.
To hell with that.
“This situation outcome leaves me fifty shades of dead, so I’m going to be part of the solution.”
He worked to restrain a grin. “I’m pretty sure death is a black and white thing.”
“Hmm. Maybe in your world, Ranger. Come to my ICU, and I’ll show you the gray shades of death.”
“Touché,” he said quietly. He leaned back and bit his bottom lip.
She had the sudden, inexplicable sensation of wanting to be the one biting those lips. She crossed her arms, more to restrain her strange impulse to want resume yesterday’s couch activities than to convey impatience.
Watching him silently, she waited for him to acquiesce.
Her mind continued to wander to the kisses they’d shared. She wanted to feel his warmth and strength. She wanted to smell his cedar scent. She wanted to feel the way his fingers curved into her flesh with desire.
Ugh! What’s wrong with me?
She was ogling him like a diabetic in a doughnut shop who hadn’t savored an apple fritter in a half a dozen years.
She had shifted from rejecting him to calling him for help in a life- threatening situation to trying to jump his bones. He must think she was bizarre, which would be true.
He looked at her curiously, making her wonder if the man was reading her mind or if she was exceedingly transparent.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll talk to Max. We’ll set up a meeting.”
Ernesto sat at his desk, staring at Juan as he explained what happened in Chicago. He had been introduced to Dr. Masters when their meeting was abruptly interrupted. Hours had eked by before they acquired information about what events had transpired.
Dr. Masters had hired protective services. Surprise. Surprise. She was smarter than her ex-husband had insinuated.
Ernesto felt his eye twitch in irritation. No one on his team knew she had hired a security team. Nor had they taken any precautions to ensure they hadn’t been followed. Since they now all had bullet wounds, perhaps they would remember to be less careless next time.
He picked up the fingernail file on his desk and began smoothing the edges of his nails. “Who is protecting her?”
“A company called Rider Security and Investigation. Small group based out of Atlanta.”
Ernesto’s eyes flickered irritably to Juan then back to his fingers. “And they want a meeting?” Someone from the company had called requesting to speak directly to him, but he declined, letting Juan take the call.
“Sí.”
Ernesto ran his tongue along his teeth as he turned his gaze to look out his office window. “Bayfront Park, as they requested. Set it up. Ground team. Sniper team.”
He needed to squeeze funds out of Dr. Masters before he killed her. If she had money to pay a security team, she had money to pay him. Killing her at this meeting would be counterproductive, but he would be prepared for defensive measures if needed.
A small security team wouldn’t have the resources or audacity to affront the Cuban mafia. They obviously wanted a negotiation, and Ernesto was willing to help Dr. Masters work-out a payment plan. Abducting her had perhaps been a hasty maneuver. Since she had savvy and resources, he could be magnanimous enough to find a mutually beneficial agreement—one where he drained her funds and she lived a bit longer.
Jenna watched Jess rush into the room. Jess threw her arms around her in more emotion than she’d ever seen the small woman express. She had found coverage and left work to come see Jenna.
“I’m so sorry, Jenna. Ryan told me Brad’s colossal screw-up. Jackass.”
“Thanks.”
Ryan sat back down on the couch to work on his laptop.
Jenna released the hug and walked with Jess into her bedroom. “I’m going to meet with the Cuban mafia, see what options I have.”
“You’re going to go confront this guy?” Jess’s voice dripped with incredulity and concern.
“I don’t have a choice. I can’t pay him. I have to see if I can reason with him.” Even as Jenna said the words, she realized the improbability of success. She remembered Ernesto’s cold, dark eyes. Her life was unimportant to him. Inconsequential. How do you reason with a cold- blooded killer?
Jenna packed her suitcase as Jess stood staring at her.
“I was an indentured servant to Brad for years. Maybe Ernesto will accept monthly payments.”
“For something that isn’t even your fault?”
“I’m short on options, Jess. I can only hope.”
Jess’s face transformed from devastation to pity. Jenna knew that look. She had shared it with families who clung to hope of their loved one’s survival in the face of certain death.
She looked away as her eyes moistened. She wrapped her phone charging cord into a small, coiled ball. “If anything happens to me—”
“Don’t.”
“Jess—”
“Don’t say it.”
“I need you to look after, Cal.” The lump in Jenna’s throat threatened to choke her.
“Shut up.” Jess said harshly. She crushed Jenna to her in a hug. “Of course I will.”
Burning tears ran down Jenna’s cheeks. “My life insurance policy should—”
“I got it. But you’re going to be fine.”
“I love you, Jess.”
Jess sniffed. “Yeah, well. I’m unique.” She wiped drops from around her eyes and straightened her scrub top.
Jenna had never known the woman to shed a tear.
“I have to go to my shift. I want text updates every few hours. Keep me posted—when you land, when you go to bed, when you face-off with asshole-Ernesto. All of it. Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jess gave her a wry smile. “And try to enjoy that hunk of yumminess in the next room, will you?”
“Get out,” Jenna said playfully. She ushered her friend out of the bedroom, down the hall and to the door.
Before leaving, Jess gave her one last look. They didn’t exchange further words or hugs. Thank god. Jenna thought she’d crumble if they went another round of sharing emotions.
Jenna closed the door as Jess left.
As she pulled out her phone, Jenna took a deep breath to compose herself. She had another call to make because she wanted to keep her job if she survived this ordeal.
“Hi, Jenna.”
“Brody, I’m heading out of town on urgent family issues,” she told her boss.
Twelve million urgent issues.
“My next shift is covered, but I wanted to let you know in case I can’t resolve things quickly.”
In which case I won’t be around for any shifts ... ever.
“Everything okay with Cal?”
“Yes, Cal is good.”
“Jenna, I heard you were maybe looking for another job. I know you want to be near Cal.”
“Brody—”
“But you’re one of the best physicians I have. Do you know as a supervisor how much I value you? You’re always on time, always thorough, and you have a good bedside manner. And you don’t complain. You make my job easier.”
“Brody—”
“Don’t leave. Don’t leave, Jenna, and I promise I will get you a year-end bonus.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m not working elsewhere. I’m going to Miami.”
She could hear him rubbing his bald head.
“Oh. That type of family issue.”
Brody knew she had left her ex-husband back in Miami. She had made it clear no information about her was to be given out to anyone. Not wanting him to think she was a fragile abuse victim, she had told him the details.
“I’m going to hold you to that bonus, though.”
“You got it.”
Unless I get killed by the Cubans.